


No Hand On The Reins

by elletopaz



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Crowley Cries During Sex (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gay Disaster Anthony J Crowley, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Living Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mild Angst, So yeah, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, i CANNOT believe that's already a tag, just so much fluff, listen i've never written smut before, literally just, so it really just turned into them being sappy disasters, well Aziraphale cries too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22905808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elletopaz/pseuds/elletopaz
Summary: “So! Aziraphale, there’s something you should probably know!” Crowley was yelling; he knew he sounded completely hysterical, but he didn’t quite know how to control his volume at this point. “I’m, uh... well, basically-- I’m in love with you!”
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 252





	1. Chapter 1

They were several bottles of wine in when the debate began. For Crowley’s part, he didn’t even know why he was _there_. It had been Aziraphale’s idea, to spend the holidays with their human... friends. (If there was a better word for the group of adults and children you had accidentally on purpose saved the world with, he didn’t have one.) And, well, that’s why he was there, wasn’t it? Aziraphale had looked at him with _that face_ , and said _wouldn’t it be nice_ , and _after everything we’ve been through together_ , and how could Crowley say no? 

(It wasn’t that Crowley was a pushover. He was a demon, and as such took great pride in doing exactly the opposite of what people wanted him to do... most of the time. It’s just that Aziraphale was another matter entirely. The angel hardly ever needed to talk Crowley into things. Hell, he hardly ever needed to outright _ask_. All Aziraphale ever had to do was slightly imply that he wanted something, and Crowley would do everything in his power to make sure it was done. God, he was a sap.)

For all his grumbling, he begrudgingly admitted that they were having a nice evening. The children had gone home an hour or two ago, and enough time had passed for the six of them that remained to reach just the other side of tipsy. 

So there they were, sitting around the fire in Anathema’s cottage, looking for all the world like a normal group of friends who hadn’t faced down Satan himself on an airbase only a couple of months previously. They might have even sounded like a normal group of friends, had they not begun to debate the nature and inherent characteristics of demons in earnest. 

“Demonsssssss aren’t nice!” Crowley hissed. “It’sssssss not what we do!”

“I don’t see how we’re supposed to believe that, coming from the demon who risked everything to save the world,” Anathema said, arms folded defiantly. 

“That-- that... that was selfishness! And sssssssself-preservation! Not a second of that was out of the goodness of my heart!” Crowley stammered. 

“Well, what about you and Mr. Aziraphale?” Madame Tracy asked. “I briefly shared a body with him, and it might not have been long, but it was long enough to see that you two have... quite a bit of history.”

“We-- that was all part of the Arrangement!” Crowley gritted his teeth. It was the most blatant lie he’d told all night, even including the one about his motivations for stopping Armageddon. He thanked somebody that Aziraphale had decided to stay out of this one; the angel had more first-hand evidence than anyone else of how nice Crowley could be, but he also understood his dislike for anyone acknowledging it. 

“Really? What about Hamlet? And those books, during World War II? And if I recall correctly, you asked him to run away with you...” Madame Tracy looked at him with knowing eyes. 

“That... those... I just. Those were things I just _did_. I just did them, and they’re done, and-- and that’s... that’s it. But I _wasn’t_ being nice.” Crowley could feel his argument collapsing. Admitting to the truth behind those actions would be far worse than a few humans thinking that he was nice and just didn’t like to talk about it. 

“Aye, what if he’s telling the truth?” Of all the people gathered there in Anathema’s cottage, Crowley wouldn’t have picked Shadwell to defend him even if he was the only thing standing between the demon and an entire ocean of holy water. He dreaded where the self-proclaimed witch hunter might be going with this. “After all, how do we know that he hasn’t been tempting this angel towards... towards sin this entire time?! Being kind to him so that he might stray from the path of righteousness and down into hell! How do we know that he’s not doing that to us too, right this very moment?!”

And there it was. Crowley let his head fall back onto the couch in exasperation. 

“Okay, okay, hear me out,” Newt leaned forward in his chair, nearly toppling over had it not been for Anathema’s steadying hand. While everyone else had found themselves pleasantly tipsy at the end of three or so glasses of wine, Newt was well on the way to absolutely plastered. With Anathema’s assistance, he regained his balance, before continuing with his tangent. “If-- if demons aren’t nice, but Crowley’s nice to Aziraphale... maybe... maybe Crowley’s in love with Aziraphale!” Newt exclaimed, before collapsing into a fit of giggles. 

_Well. Fuck._

It was a joke, it couldn't more clear that it was a joke, but Crowley felt his heart drop. He stared daggers into his glass of wine, which refilled itself purely out of a sense of self-preservation. At that moment, he knew he couldn’t just laugh it off. There was absolutely no way that it would come across as genuine, which would surely lead to a plethora of other questions, which would ultimately lead to... well. 

_Am I drunk enough for this?_ he thought, eyes still on his wine glass. _What choice do I have? Either I tell him now, like this, or through an incredibly uncomfortable series of questions and... not at all how it should be. None of this is how it should be. I was going to tell him when we were alone, when it felt right... Now what? Now what? Now what? Am I drunk enough for this? To just tell him? I’m just gonna tell him. I’m just. I’m gonna. I. I’m just. Tell him. I’m gonna tell him._

The pause in conversation had gone on just long enough to be noticeable, when Crowley finally looked up. He looked around at the group, downed his glass of wine, and turned to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. 

“So! Aziraphale, there’s something you should probably know!” Crowley was yelling; he knew he sounded completely hysterical, but he didn’t quite know how to control his volume at this point. “I’m, uh... well, basically-- I’m in love with you!”

He didn’t give Aziraphale, or anyone else for that matter, any time to respond. He barely took the time to register the shocked expressions on everyone’s faces before he was out of his chair, and bolting out the door. He all but collapsed, leaning onto the side of the house, his breath ghosting in the cold air. Briefly, he considered sobering up, but upon rethinking what he had just done, he decided that his drunken state might very well be the only thing keeping him from discorporating from sheer mortification. 

Over the years, he’d thought about how this moment-- this _confession_ \-- might play out. He’d loved Aziraphale longer than he could remember, longer than he had even thought _possible_ , but it wasn’t until 1967, when a very scared angel had handed him a thermos full of holy water and told him _you go too fast for me, Crowley_ , that he let himself even consider the possibility that his feelings for Aziraphale might be mutual. 

That night had been tough, yes, and it had hurt to hear Aziraphale say the things he said, but the more Crowley had thought about them, the more he realized that they didn’t mean _no_ , they meant _not yet_ . They didn’t mean _I’m not interested, please don’t bring this up ever again_ , they meant _my dear, I want to, I really do, but we can’t-- not yet-- but someday we might get our chance_ . At least that’s what Crowley _thought_ , after several years spent analyzing Aziraphale’s words. 

Despite his uncertainty, he had all but made up his mind to confess to Aziraphale-- and then suddenly he was being handed a basket in a graveyard and Armageddon was beginning. For the next eleven years it was all business-- it had to be. Crowley was happier than he cared to admit about spending more time with Aziraphale, but that wasn’t the point. The point was averting the apocalypse-- which they had done, albeit with a few hiccups along the way. 

When they toasted at the Ritz, Crowley had felt the tension leave his body for the first time in eleven years, and his mind wandered back to his pre-apocalypse plans-- to lay his cards on the table, and simply and honestly tell Aziraphale the truth. And then again he was thinking about 1967. _You go too fast for me, Crowley._ At that moment, he decided-- he’d have to do it right. The two of them had been dancing around this for eighty years, probably longer if Crowley were to look at things objectively. This wasn’t the kind of thing he could just _say_ to Aziraphale-- he wouldn’t even know where to start. No, this was the sort of thing that demanded planning. At the time he'd even thought about writing it down. 

And now... this. One drunken night with their human friends was apparently all it took for all of Crowley’s notions about plans and romance and making sure he didn’t go too fast for Aziraphale to be flung out the window. He couldn’t shake the thought from his head: Aziraphale deserved so much better than this. Aziraphale deserved so much better than him. 

He was so absorbed in his own humiliation that he didn’t hear the door open. Suddenly, there was a gentle hand on his arm.

“My dear?”

Crowley looked up, and there Aziraphale was. He was absolutely gorgeous in the moonlight, his pale hair shining and reminiscent of his halo. Crowley couldn’t help but note that he didn’t look uncomfortable; in fact, there was a warmth to him that Crowley honestly didn’t think he deserved.

“Hey,” he said, voice shaky. “Angel, ‘m sorry. I didn’t mean... I didn’t want that to come out when it did. I just... I know, I _know_ Newt was joking, but in the moment-- I couldn’t just laugh it off. Not when... not when he was right. Fuck, I’m sorry. I promise, I won’t bring it up again. Can we just-- let’s just forget about it.”

“Why would we forget about it?” And was that... disappointment in Aziraphale’s voice? “You meant it, yes?”

“Well-- yes. Of course I meant it, angel. More than words can say-- I-- I’ve loved you for so long I don’t know when it started, and so much that I don’t think I can quantify it. Which is why-- _which is why_ this shouldn’t have happened this way.” The words were pouring out of Crowley now, and he was powerless to stop them. “I wanted to tell you, hell, I was _going_ to tell you-- as soon as I had planned it out. Fuck-- I wanted to do something _nice_ \-- at the _very least_ I wanted to take you out to dinner, and-- shit, I was gonna write it all down... and instead you got this. I yelled at you, and then I ran away-- and now I’m just rambling, and-- you deserve so much better than this.”

“Oh, my dear...” Aziraphale sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “I don’t need anything special-- all I need is you.”

And with that, Aziraphale leaned in and kissed him. It was short, merely a closed-mouth press of lips to lips, but it was enough to leave Crowley completely breathless.

“Angel-- you...you...” he couldn’t get the rest of the sentence out. He wasn’t even sure he knew what the rest of the sentence would have been. His entire brain had gone blank, his focus narrowed solely to Aziraphale’s lips, and how they had felt when they met his own. 

“I love you too, my dear.” And now Aziraphale’s hands were on the small of Crowley’s back, gently pulling him closer, and how the _hell_ was Crowley supposed to focus on anything that even resembled forming coherent sentences? “I’m sorry you didn’t get to tell me the way you wanted to,” Aziraphale continued, “but I’m not sorry you said it. I had thought for a while that what I felt for you might be reciprocated, but then... the world didn’t end and despite all your talk of ‘our own side,’ nothing changed between us, and I thought... well, I was grateful to have your friendship, and to finally be able to be open about it, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping for something more.” 

One of his hands stroked softly up and down Crowley’s back, comforting and overwhelming at the same time. 

“I... me too. God, yeah, angel. Me too.” Crowley finally managed to get out, before a feeble, “Kiss me again, please?” 

Aziraphale smiled at him, pulling him closer. He rested his forehead on Crowley’s before bringing their mouths together for the second time. This too was brief, but only because they both started grinning so wide that any attempt at continuing the kiss would have been mostly comprised of teeth. 

“You love me,” Crowley said, finally feeling his grasp on the English language returning to him. He was still smiling, might never stop smiling, might spend the rest of his life in a blissed out daze, drunk on the love of an angel. “You love me the way I love you. You--” he could feel himself getting choked up again. “Fuck. You _love_ me. And I love you. And-- and I get to say that now. Shit. Angel, I hope you know what you’ve signed up for. I’m going to tell you I love you every single goddamn day--”

“And you think I won’t do the same, sweetheart?” Aziraphale chuckled. 

“Ngk,” Crowley said. _Sweetheart_. _Fuck_. Only a couple of seconds ago he had felt like he was going to discorporate just from Aziraphale touching him, and now he was jumping straight into pet names? 

Aziraphale must have noticed his brief pained expression, because he immediately brought a hand up to gently stroke Crowley’s cheek. 

“Are you alright, love?” he asked fondly. 

“Yeah-- ‘m fine, angel...” Crowley faltered. “It’s just-- this, you-- I’ve wanted this for so long, but I-- I just thought we’d never get here. I hoped-- _fuck_ , did I hope, but I never thought... it might take me some time to get used to it, is all.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said, reaching down to intertwine their fingers. “Take all the time you need. We’ve got quite a bit of it, as far as I can tell.”

Crowley was the one to initiate their third kiss. He couldn’t help it; Aziraphale loved him. He _loved_ him. Really, actually loved him. And he was so patient with him, and he understood him so well-- Crowley was entirely overcome with affection. So, not confident in his ability to verbalize said affection, he simply pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s once again. 

Aziraphale, bastard angel that he was, had apparently decided that as sweet as chaste, close-mouthed kisses were, he had had quite enough of them, thank you very much. He wasted no time deepening the kiss, and Crowley was _not_ complaining. Aziraphale’s lips were soft, and he tasted like cocoa and gingerbread, and Crowley wondered briefly if it wouldn’t be too much trouble for them to stay like this forever. Then Aziraphale’s teeth grazed his bottom lip, and Crowley’s mind went blank again. His thoughts were only of the angel, who was now crowding him against the side of Anathema’s cottage. _Anathema’s cottage. Shit._

Using all the willpower he could muster, Crowley only just managed to tear himself away from Aziraphale. Unfortunately, the slight distance meant he could properly look at the angel, and his blissful, flushed expression made Crowley want to kiss him all over again. However, he couldn’t change the fact that he had just remembered their status as guests in someone else’s home. 

“We--we should, er,” he gestured vaguely towards the front door. 

“Indeed,” Aziraphale said breathlessly, “I was rather thinking it was time we bid our goodbyes.”

“Our-- what?”

“Well, as lovely as spending time with everyone has been, I’m not entirely confident in my ability to keep my hands off you for the remainder of the night, my dear. And I doubt you want to treat them to such a display any more than I do.”

“You--” _Hands. On me. Your hands on me. Fuck, angel. God, yes. Let’s go. Let’s go right now._ “Yes, yeah. Let’s uh. Do that. Goodbyes, right.”

Aziraphale hesitated, perhaps mistaking his enthusiasm for nervousness. “That is-- if, if you want, my dear. I don’t expect-- that is, I don’t need-- well... I love _you_ , and just spending time with you makes me _so_ happy, darling, and if you’re not interested--”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley cut him off. “Angel. Love of my life.” He took both of Aziraphale’s hands in his own. “I am _so bloody interested_ \-- I’m not even sure I can put it into words, I mean, _fuck_ \--”

“Well, that is the idea.”

“ _Angel_!”

Aziraphale held Crowley’s hand while he said his goodbyes, and Crowley tried to ignore the smug grins of Anathema and Madame Tracy. The kissing had been nice, the kissing had been _wonderful_ , and the promise of more to come was downright intoxicating, but the feeling of Aziraphale’s hand in his-- that confirmation, that _I’m here, I’m here and I love you, I’m yours, and you’re mine, I’m never going anywhere ever again_ \-- Crowley was almost delirious with how happy it made him. 

For 6000 years they had been forced to stay distant-- Crowley could probably count on one hand the number of times they had intentionally touched-- but now, _oh_ , now-- he hardly ever had to let Aziraphale go. He could see it now: holding hands as they walked through the park. Greeting Aziraphale with a kiss. Cuddling up next to each other in front of a fire. Laying his head in the angel’s lap and taking a nap while he read. Aziraphale, laying him down on the bed, kissing his neck, his collarbone, before moving downward, and--

Crowley’s breath caught in his throat as his face grew hot. He squeezed Aziraphale’s hand. “Ready to go, angel?”

Aziraphale smiled at him, that beautiful, radiant smile that never failed to make Crowley feel warm inside. “Of course, my love,” he said, before then turning to the others one last time. “Again, it was so lovely seeing you all!”

“Have fun you two!” Anathema shouted after them as they left, and Crowley could hear the smirk in her voice. 

“Oh, we will!” Aziraphale called back, inducing peals of laughter from Newt, Anathema, and Tracy-- and what could only be described as a scandalized gasp from Shadwell. Even as the door shut behind them, Crowley could feel himself turning scarlet. 

“Y’know,” he said as they got into the Bentley, “sometimes I think you exist solely to embarrass me.”

Aziraphale laughed, taking one of Crowley’s hands and squeezing it. “I wouldn’t do it nearly as often if your reactions weren’t so adorable, my dear. And you love me in spite of it, so why would I bother stopping?”

“Well, now, that’s where you’re wrong, angel,” Crowley said with a grin. “Somehow, it’s become one of the things I love _about_ you.”

“Would you be terribly upset if I said I suppose it’s just... ineffable?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Crowley said, but he was smiling, and Aziraphale was smiling back, and there was a bright, glowing thing in Crowley’s chest whose light refused to fade. Aziraphale’s hand was warm in his own, and the warmth was spreading from their linked hands and through Crowley’s whole body. 6000 years was a long time to wait, but as Crowley began the drive back to the bookshop (the drive back _home_ ), he was certain he’d do it all over again. Sure, he’d fucked it up a bit towards the end there, but it had turned out well, after all. And it wasn’t really an end, was it? No, it was a beginning. It was _their_ beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops another Hozier title I have no self control lmao
> 
> so this is actually based off of how i came out to my best friend-- despite how nervous i was at the time, looking back on it i was like... lowkey this is hilarious-- what if i wrote it as a love confession? it turned out slightly angstier than the actual real life situation was but what can ya do lol
> 
> tumblr @ [panicvertig-o](https://panicvertig-o.tumblr.com/) / [ineffableflashbastard](https://ineffableflashbastard.tumblr.com/) (good omens side blog)
> 
> thanks for reading! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen,,,,,, i have no excuse. this is just shameless, ridiculously soft smut. i wasn't really planning on writing this chapter (i've literally never written smut before, and tbh i didn't really think i ever would) but once i started it just sort of poured out of me, and, well, 4,086 words later, here we are.

No sooner had Crowley closed the door to the bookshop than Aziraphale was pushing him up against it, kissing him fervently. Aziraphale’s open affection towards Crowley had been overwhelming at first, but the desire burning in the pit of his stomach had become a far more pressing matter. He could scarcely believe they had made it all the way back to the bookshop; he had been half hard ever since Aziraphale had talked about getting his hands on him, and although he knew the Bentley wasn’t all that suited for car sex, he was sure they would’ve made do. But against all odds, they had made it, and Aziraphale’s mouth was hot against his own, and Crowley was certain that he was in paradise. 

“I love you, I love you,  _ fuck _ , angel, I love you,” Crowley can’t seem to stop saying it. It was out in the open now, that which Crowley had held in his heart for so, so long. He had ripped it out of his chest at the worst moment, and hurled it at Aziraphale’s feet--  _ here, angel, this is all I have, this is all I am. Take it, take it, take it, it’s yours. It’s always been. _ He hadn’t expected anything in return, and yet. And yet. Aziraphale had taken one look at that love, that twisted thing, and he had called it beautiful. He had called  _ Crowley _ beautiful, and he had told him he loved him in return. He treated Crowley like he was something precious, and Crowley loved him so much, it was like a dam had burst. And so he said the words, over and over again, because what else could he possibly do?

Crowley flung off his glasses, not particularly caring where they landed. Aziraphale kissed down his neck, biting and sucking on his collarbone, and Crowley couldn’t help but hope that he’d leave bruises.  _ Leave your mark on me, angel-- show the whole world I’m yours. _ When Aziraphale mouthed over a particularly sensitive spot, Crowley felt himself go completely pliant in the angel’s arms, a soft moan unwittingly escaping his lips.

“Oh, darling…” Aziraphale whispered against his neck. “I love you too,  _ oh _ , I love you so very much.”

Despite the fact that he had already heard the sentiment from Aziraphale several times in the past hour, Crowley found himself going weak at the words. Using the hand not gripping Aziraphale’s waist to caress his cheek, he kissed him again. He parted his lips, allowing Aziraphale to slip his tongue into his mouth. They kissed slowly, savoring every moment; after 6000 years it was clear that this wasn’t something they wanted to rush through. This was special, this was glorious, this was bliss as Crowley had never known it before.

“My dear,” Aziraphale broke the kiss briefly, “I, erm. I have a flat upstairs, with a bed… do you think perhaps we should relocate?”

“You tell me, angel,” Crowley smirked. “You’re the one who’s got me pushed up against a door.”

“I’m simply returning the favor, dear. Or did you think I’d forgotten your little stunt at the convent?”

Crowley kissed him again, couldn’t  _ not _ be kissing him, because  _ fuck _ . Thinking about that day in the old convent-- despite everything they needed to do, everything that had been going wrong-- the second he had shoved Aziraphale against that wall, well. It may have been born of frustration, but the second he had registered how  _ close _ Aziraphale suddenly was, all he could think about was how easy it would be to lean in and kiss him. And now… well, now he could. And so he did, letting Aziraphale deepen the kiss, stroking his hands down the angel’s sides. He let his fingertips sink into Aziraphale’s plush hips, reveling in the angel’s softness. Oh, the amount of fantasies he had that centered around Aziraphale’s hips, his ass, his  _ thighs _ . Aziraphale was gorgeous, and there wasn’t a single part of him that Crowley didn’t want to worship. He probably could have stayed there forever-- hands exploring the angel’s body until he had memorized every inch of him-- but Aziraphale was grinding against him, and Crowley could feel his erection pressing into his thigh, and  _ fuck _ , that was Aziraphale, hard because of  _ him _ .

Experimentally, Crowley slotted one of his thighs between Aziraphale’s legs, and then became convinced he might imminently discorporate as the angel moaned into his mouth and bucked up into the touch.  _ Fuck, angel, I can’t believe I’m the one having this effect on you. I can’t believe you want me like this.  _ Crowley pulled away briefly, fully intending to make some clever remark-- possibly to get them to  _ actually _ relocate to Aziraphale’s bed, but one look at the angel left him entirely speechless. Aziraphale’s lips were pink and slightly swollen, his cheeks were adorably flushed, and he was looking at Crowley like he wanted to devour him.  _ How the fuck do you expect me to come up with words when you look like that? You look like that and you want me-- how the hell am I supposed to cope? _

Luckily, Aziraphale appeared to be on the same page as him, because after a sharp intake of breath, he said, “So. Bed?”

Crowley nodded emphatically, and Aziraphale took his hand, leading him through the bookshop and up the stairs in the back. They stopped in the doorway of the bedroom, unable to keep their hands off each other any longer. Aziraphale pulled Crowley into a searing kiss, before backing him up against the doorframe. Crowley was starting to think that this might be a bit of a  _ thing _ for Aziraphale. Not that he minded-- quite the opposite, in fact. He'd gladly get pushed up against any vertical surface anytime, as long as it was Aziraphale doing the pushing. 

“Oh, my love,” Aziraphale murmured, beginning to unbutton Crowley’s shirt. He looked up at him through golden lashes, and there was so much love and lust in his expression that Crowley thought he might actually faint. “Is this alright?”

“Yes-- god, yes, of course-- oh,  _ fuck _ , angel,” Crowley gasped as Aziraphale finally ran his hands over Crowley’s bare chest. For so long he had imagined what Aziraphale’s hands would feel like on his skin, but no fantasy compared to the reality of Aziraphale’s soft, reverent hands roaming over his torso. And now the angel had resumed his neck kissing and biting from before as one of his thumbs brushed over Crowley’s left nipple, and-- yeah, Crowley was  _ absolutely _ going to die. “Please… ‘ziraphale-- want you so much…”

Aziraphale smirked at Crowley’s begging, before sinking to his knees in one fluid motion. He slid his hands down to the zipper of Crowley’s jeans, pausing before unzipping them to ask, “May I, darling?”

As much as Crowley was nodding, couldn’t seem to stop nodding, still couldn’t believe that Aziraphale wanted him like this, he found himself saying, “Angel… are you sure? You-- you don’t have to-- I mean--”

“Crowley, my dear,” Aziraphale looked up at him, “kindly shut up. If you had any idea how long I’ve wanted to get my mouth on you…”

“Ngk.” Crowley was starting to think Aziraphale’s words alone would be the end of him. That is, until Aziraphale pressed a kiss to his still-clothed erection, and the sensation made Crowley’s knees buckle. Had he not already been leaning up against the doorframe, he probably would have toppled over entirely. “ _ Ah, fuck _ … angel…”

It wasn’t that Crowley was  _ inexperienced _ , per say. After many a lonely night in his apartment (frantically stroking himself, until he came with Aziraphale’s name on his lips), he was no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh. It was just that every time the opportunity to experience said pleasures with someone else presented itself, he found himself unable to follow through. All his desires were centered firmly, permanently around Aziraphale-- he had never wanted anyone else. As a result, he was entirely unprepared for the sensation of someone else touching him, a feeling which was further amplified because that someone else was Aziraphale. 

Finally,  _ finally _ Aziraphale worked open his jeans, tugging them down along with his underwear, and gently pulled out his cock. As Aziraphale began to slowly stroke him, Crowley threw his head back, biting his lip to suppress a moan. 

“So beautiful, my darling, so lovely,” Aziraphale was watching his face intently, the adoring look in his eyes almost as overwhelming as his hand on Crowley’s cock. 

“Oh, oh  _ fuck-- _ angel…  _ please _ ,” Crowley breathed. He knew he was begging again, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Aziraphale’s hand was on him,  _ Aziraphale was stroking him off _ , but  _ fuck _ , he was moving so slowly, so teasingly, it bordered on torture. “ _ Please _ , angel… need your mouth on me…” 

Aziraphale chuckled softly, before taking all of Crowley into his mouth in one swift motion.

“Ah, Aziraphale,  _ fuck _ !” Crowley’s hands flew to the angel’s head, sinking his fingers into his soft curls. Aziraphale hummed in approval, and the vibrations around Crowley’s cock sent a shiver up his spine. 

God, but Aziraphale was good at this. It was as though he knew exactly what to do to drive Crowley crazy, to leave him absolutely mindless with pleasure. Just when he thought he had gotten used to Aziraphale’s slow, steady bobbing on his cock (well, “used to” would be a bit of a stretch-- it was more that he no longer felt like he was going to pass out from pleasure), the angel sped up his movements. One of his hands came up to cup Crowley’s balls, massaging them gently, while the other stroked tenderly along his inner thigh. 

Crowley had forgotten any semblance of any language he had ever learned, reduced entirely to moans and whimpers. Nothing had ever felt this good, nothing. And it was Aziraphale, his beautiful, lovely bastard of an angel, who he loved more than anything in the godforsaken universe, that was doing this to him. 

Aziraphale pulled back, almost completely off him, and swirled his tongue around the head of Crowley’s cock.

“Ah, ah, angel!  _ Fuck _ …”

It wasn’t long before Crowley felt a familiar (and yet, entirely new in its origins) warmth begin to pool in his stomach. He was so close to the edge, there was simply no way he was going to last. Much like size and shape, refractory periods were an optional feature for beings such as Crowley and Aziraphale-- but the sappy, sentimental part of Crowley (a far larger part than he was willing to admit) wanted to make this last. With every ounce of restraint he had, he used his hands, still buried in Aziraphale’s soft curls, to gently push the angel off of him. 

Aziraphale looked up at him, pale blue eyes widening in mild concern. 

“Is everything alright, dearest?”

Crowley couldn’t help but laugh at that.  _ Is everything alright? Oh, I don’t know, angel. We’re free, we’re in love, I just spent the past ten minutes feeling like I might discorporate just from the feeling of your mouth on me, and the only reason I’m stopping you from continuing is because I don’t want to come too quickly. Fuck, if these are the only problems we have for the rest of our lives, I’ll be pretty damn happy.  _

“Everything is wonderful, angel,” Crowley said, still chuckling. “I just-- god, I’m so fucking close-- and-- and I don’t want this to be over yet. I--I want to see you.”

Aziraphale blushed, getting to his feet and taking both of Crowley’s hands in his own. “Very well then, my dear. Although I should like to finish you off with just my mouth… another time, perhaps?”

“God, yes,  _ please _ ,” Crowley breathed, eliciting a grin from Aziraphale. He kissed the angel, tasting himself in Aziraphale’s mouth. Aziraphale kissed back like it was the only thing he knew, like his lips moving against Crowley’s was the only thing that mattered, and all Crowley could think was that he wanted to give him the world.

Crowley broke the kiss, deciding it was his turn to leave his mark on Aziraphale. As he kissed down the angel’s jawline, Aziraphale tilted his head back, exposing more of his gorgeous throat for Crowley to kiss and bite and suck. Aziraphale is incredibly responsive-- Crowley doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of the noises he’s making-- little gasps and moans that Crowley  _ still _ couldn’t believe he was the cause of. 

After a while, Crowley’s jeans became a minor irritant; bunched down around his thighs, they no longer served a purpose other than to restrict his movements. With a thought, Crowley got rid of them, as well as the rest of his clothes for good measure. As soon as he did so, it came to his attention that Aziraphale was still fully clothed-- a fact which Crowley decided required immediate rectification.

“Angel, may I?” he asked, hands reaching up to Aziraphale’s bowtie. 

“No need,” Aziraphale’s voice was breathy and desperate, and with a snap of his fingers he, too, was naked. Crowley felt a small twinge of disappointment-- he had envisioned taking Aziraphale’s clothing off slowly, devoting time to worship every new inch of skin that was revealed, ensuring that Aziraphale knew without a doubt how  _ loved _ he was-- but he knew they’d have time for that some other time. There were so many possibilities to explore, now, and they had all the time in the world to explore them. Besides, the reality of Aziraphale, entirely naked and entirely pressed up against him, more than made up for it. 

“You are so gorgeous,” Crowley murmured, his eyes roaming over Aziraphale’s now-bare skin and his hands exploring everywhere he could reach. 

“Really, my dear.”

“You  _ are _ ,” Crowley insisted. “My gorgeous, handsome, beautiful, sexy angel.”

He peppered kisses along Aziraphale’s collarbone and shoulders, trying not to moan at every rock of Aziraphale’s hips. Now that they were naked, their cocks brushed together with every thrust, and the sensation was quickly becoming overwhelming. 

“Wrap your legs around me, darling.” Aziraphale’s hands came to rest on Crowley’s hips, holding him steady. When Crowley complied, Aziraphale lifted him with seemingly no trouble at all, carrying him to the bed and laying him down. “I adore you, you know,” he said matter-of-factly, and Crowley blushed as Aziraphale scattered kisses across Crowley’s chest. “Tell me what you want, my love.”

“Everything, anything, s’long as it’s you.” Crowley’s head was still spinning at the  _ ease _ with which Aziraphale had lifted him-- as if everything the angel did wasn’t already a turn on, that had just taken the  _ fucking _ cake. Not to mention he was still trying to reconcile the fact that Aziraphale was  _ naked  _ and  _ on top of him _ . Coherent thoughts were beyond him right now. He wanted Aziraphale inside of him, wanted the angel to fuck him until he couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think-- but he wasn’t confident that he’d be able to verbalize that desire. His legs were already bracketing Aziraphale, but he spread them even further apart.

Luckily, Aziraphale once again seemed to read his mind. “Darling, do you want me to fuck you?” he asked, sounding a bit breathless, but nevertheless excited at the prospect. 

“ _ Oh,  _ angel,” Crowley simply couldn’t believe his luck. “Sometimes I think that’s the only thing I’ve wanted my entire life.” He leaned up to kiss Aziraphale, delighting in the way their bodies fit together, in the way Aziraphale’s weight pressed him into the bed, grounding him, comforting him. “Well, not the only thing,” he amended as they separated, grinning up at the angel.  _ I want so much with you, angel, you have no idea. Now that we’re free, now that we can-- I’m going to spend the rest of my eternal life loving you, making sure you never doubt how much you mean to me.  _ Out of nowhere, he felt himself having to blink back tears; thinking about everything he wanted with Aziraphale-- thinking about  _ the rest of their lives _ , spent together, as they always should have been-- he couldn’t help but get emotional. 

“Well then, my dear, tell me what else you want.” Aziraphale guided him back against the pillows, positioning himself between Crowley’s spread legs. Crowley gasped as a miraculously slick finger circled his entrance. 

“Oh-- oh  _ fuck _ !” Crowley moaned as Aziraphale’s finger entered him. “I-- I want… ah! Angel… s-- so good… please,  _ more _ …”

“I asked you a question, darling.” Aziraphale’s voice was soft but commanding as he slipped a second finger inside. He crooked his fingers as Crowley arched his back, pushing into the touch.

“I--  _ oh, right there _ \-- I want-- I want to wake up next to you every morning. I know you don’t really sleep, you--you wouldn’t have to---  _ please, ah, like that _ , it-- it would be enough just-- just to wake up with you there. 

“I want to tell you I love you every single day, I want--  _ ah! _ I want to go to every country, every city, every  _ place _ we ever met up, and I want to kiss you--  _ oh, angel _ , I want to kiss you at every single one, to-- to make up for the times when we couldn’t, couldn’t even be seen together-- and I want to come-- I want to come home a-- _ ah--  _ at the end of it all, to  _ our _ home.” 

Crowley was babbling, he  _ knew _ he was babbling, but Aziraphale’s fingers were deep inside him, and he was curling them  _ just so _ \-- he was nearly delirious with pleasure. Aziraphale added a third finger, and Crowley whimpered at the stretch before continuing to ramble.

“I want a life with you, angel. I-- I want to take you out to ridiculously expensive restaurants--  _ oh, _ just so I can watch you eat everything on the damn menu. I want to get stupid drunk in the-- in the back of the bookshop, and--  _ fuck _ , just talk about anything that comes to mind. I want to listen to you whine about customers, I want you to scold me whenever I yell at my plants-- I want everything with you. 

“I spent 6000 years having to pretend that you weren’t the most important thing in the world to me. I don’t want to have to pretend any longer. I want to make sure you  _ never _ forget just how loved you are-- just how much  _ I love you _ .” 

The tears from before had returned, and this time they were determined to make their presence known. 

“Oh, Crowley.” At some point Aziraphale’s fingers had stilled inside him, and when Crowley looked at him he saw that the angel was crying too. “I want that too-- I want all of that, with you.  _ I love you _ .”

Aziraphale leaned down, kissing Crowley fiercely. As they kissed, Aziraphale began to move his fingers again, stroking even deeper than before, and Crowley gasped against his lips. 

“I want this, too, just so we’re clear,” Crowley grinned up at Aziraphale, having slightly regained his composure. “I’m… I’m ready, angel,  _ please _ . I want you to fuck me.”

“Oh,  _ yes _ , darling.” Aziraphale pressed a kiss to Crowley’s forehead, before propping himself up slightly. He gently removed his fingers, replacing them with the head of his cock. And then he was pressing into Crowley slowly-- hot and thick and absolutely, mind-numbingly perfect. They moaned in unison as Aziraphale bottomed out, and Crowley couldn’t tear his gaze away from the angel’s face. Aziraphale’s eyes had fluttered shut, and his mouth had fallen open in a perfect ‘o’-- the absolute picture of ecstasy. He was gorgeous, and Crowley was in love with him. 

“ _ Fuck _ , angel…”

“Oh, _my_ _love_ , you feel…”

“So good, angel, so good…”

“ _ I love you… _ ”

God-- Satan-- somebody, Aziraphale was barely moving, almost cautious in his thrusts, yet it was driving Crowley absolutely mad. Aziraphale was so gentle with him, so caring, even as he was fucking into him he was running his hands over Crowley’s skin and kissing him everywhere he could reach. It was so tender and loving, it was almost enough to bring Crowley to tears again. But his body wanted more, wanted to feel Aziraphale pounding into him, until he was mindless with pleasure. 

Crowley canted his hips up to meet Aziraphale’s thrusts. “Please, angel,  _ harder _ …”

“You’re sure, darling?”

“Yes, yes, I can take it,  _ please _ …”

Apparently that was all the permission Aziraphale needed to begin fucking him in earnest. He slammed into Crowley, even deeper than before, hitting his prostate with every thrust. It was a good thing that Crowley didn’t need to breathe because in that moment he forgot how, his entire world narrowed down to Aziraphale above him, Aziraphale inside him, Aziraphale  _ everywhere _ .

“Like that?”

“Yeah, angel,  _ fuck _ , just-- just like that…”

Crowley clung to Aziraphale’s shoulders and wrapped his legs around his hips as the angel drove into him. His cock throbbed between them, untouched but somehow already close to the edge. 

“Ngh, ‘ziraphale… m’not, m’not gonna last…” Crowley gasped.

“M--me neither, love-- do you want me to touch you?”

All of Crowley’s higher brain functions had ceased. He was so close, it would simply be too much-- Aziraphale pounding into him as he stroked him off-- the mere thought was overwhelming. There was no chance he’d be able to get out anything that even resembled words at this point, so instead he just frantically shook his head.

“Oh, you wondrous thing.” Aziraphale’s thrusts were coming faster now, and Crowley was a wreck beneath him. “You absolute marvel. You can come just from this? Just from my cock inside you?”

Crowley keened, bucking up into Aziraphale’s movements.  _ Where the hell did you learn to talk like that, angel? _

“ _ Angel _ , I’m--”

“ _ Yes _ , my dear, my  _ dearest _ Crowley. Come for me, my love.”

Crowley’s orgasm shot through him like a bolt of lightning. He cried out, clenching around Aziraphale as wave after wave of pleasure set his nerves alight. Aziraphale fucked him through it, even as his thrusts grew more erratic by the second. 

“ _ Darling _ …” Aziraphale moaned. “Can I-- can I come inside you?”

“ _ Yes _ , my angel…” Crowley whispered. Even spent as he was, his cock twitched at the thought. “ _ Please _ … want you to fill me up…” 

Aziraphale groaned, slamming into Crowley one final time before coming inside him. He all but collapsed on top of Crowley, breathing heavily as the aftershocks of his orgasm coursed through him. They remained like that for several minutes, both of them in such a blissed out state that they were essentially incapable of movement. 

Finally, Crowley broke the silence, “I gotta say, angel-- I am  _ so  _ glad we left Anathema’s party.”

Aziraphale lifted his head to look at Crowley, smiling at him in that impossibly cute way that was only made that much more adorable by his pink cheeks and mussed curls. “Let’s not kid ourselves, my dear boy-- we both know you would’ve been grateful to leave that party even without the promise of sex.”

“Perhaps,” Crowley said lightly. “The sex was a pretty fantastic bonus, though.”

“Oh? I’m a bonus now, am I?” Aziraphale teased. 

Crowley took Aziraphale’s face in both his hands, pulling him into a tender kiss. “Don’t even joke about that, angel,” he said. “You are…  _ everything _ , to me.”

“As you are to me, love,” Aziraphale craned up to press a kiss to his forehead. 

Crowley waved a hand, and the mess between them was gone. He slipped out from under Aziraphale and slid down so that he was next to the angel, eye level with him, just in time to see the angel suppress a yawn.

“Tired, are we?” Crowley chuckled. 

“I know I don’t normally go in for sleep,” Aziraphale said, “but a nap sounds absolutely lovely right now…”

“My demonic influence has paid off, I see,” Crowley grinned. “I’ve been playing the long game with this one, angel. Am I finally going to see you fully give in to the sin of sloth?”

“Quite possibly.” Aziraphale fought back another yawn. “On one condition, though, my dear.”

“Hm?”

“I should very much like to cuddle with the love of my life as I do so, darling.”

“Well, who am I to deny such a request?” Crowley slid closer to Aziraphale in a heartbeat, letting the angel wrap his arms around his waist, and nestling his head against Aziraphale’s chest. 

“Love you, angel,” he murmured, already feeling sleep beginning to overtake him.

“Oh, Crowley. I love you too.”

The last thing he remembered before succumbing to unconsciousness was Aziraphale pulling him closer, and holding him like he never wanted to let go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, that was a thing
> 
> tumblr @ [panicvertig-o](https://panicvertig-o.tumblr.com/) / [ineffableflashbastard](https://ineffableflashbastard.tumblr.com/) (good omens side blog)
> 
> thanks for reading! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise! instead of letting my schoolwork get the better of me when it came to finishing this story, i instead let this story get the better of me and completely ignored my schoolwork for an entire day because i got inspired to both finish chapter 2 of this story and write literally all of chapter 3 in one day... whoops. i figured i'd post them both now, and then maybe my brain will finally allow me to get some of my actual work done. i guess we'll see...
> 
> so yeah, here's the last chapter of no hand on the reins, featuring ridiculous amounts of fluff: south downs edition

Let us set the scene. December in the South Downs. A cozy little cottage with a vintage car parked out front and a greenhouse in the back. Inside, there is a bedroom. It is one of the few rooms in the house not overrun with books, but make no mistake, they still pile high on one of the bedside tables. The culprit, the perpetrator of this book infestation, is just beginning to stir from sleep. He is the only one in the bed, but he is far from alone. Another figure stands at the window, gazing out onto this cold winter morning. Their story has already had its happy ending. But it continues, nonetheless. 

When Aziraphale first opens his eyes, all he can see is a dark blob, partially obscuring the light from the window. He blinks, eyes taking their sweet time to adjust until finally he sees Crowley, back turned to Aziraphale, his lanky form silhouetted against the cold morning sun. A soft smile crosses the angel’s face. Oh, he’s in  _ love _ . This isn’t news to Aziraphale, in fact, he’s known for about eighty years now, but it’s only been about a year since he’s been able to show it, and to have it reciprocated in turn. 

These are the moments that no one talks about. The moments that come after the tears, after the  _ yes, god, yes I love you too _ and the _ I’ve always loved you, I don’t know how to stop, I never want to stop _ . After the hesitation of a first kiss, and the desperation of a second, third, fourth. It is easy to end the story there. Let the reader imagine a perfect future, where  _ together _ is all that counts, and all the parts of life that don’t involve an  _ us _ are forgotten, discarded. 

But real life, real life carries on. Real life keeps going, and you’re not always together, and sometimes there is bickering, and things don’t get to be perfect. But real life also has moments like this one. These soft, reassuring moments. There are no tears, no desperate, insatiable need to cling to one another as though it’s the last time you’ll ever touch. It’s just Aziraphale, waking up to the jumble of bones and angles that is Crowley, standing in front of the window, doing nothing of note, and remembering in a comforting, solid way that he loves him. He’s never going to stop loving him. Aziraphale knows this, not in a way that makes him ache or need, but in a way that grounds him. This love is forever, and he is so very grateful for that.

Eventually, Aziraphale talked himself into getting up, padding quietly over to Crowley and hugging him close, Crowley’s back pressed up against Aziraphale’s chest. 

“Morning, angel,” Crowley murmured, voice rough from disuse. 

“Good morning, my love.” Aziraphale found that soft smile returning to his face. He rested his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “Did you sleep well?”

“Not as well as you, apparently,” Crowley grinned. “I should never have talked you into the whole sleeping thing-- it’s a miracle you spend any time out of that bed nowadays.” 

“It’s still morning!” Aziraphale protested.

“It’s eleven-thirty, angel,” Crowley said. “You’re really pushing the boundaries of what counts as ‘morning.’”

“What can I say,” Aziraphale pressed a gentle kiss to Crowley’s cheek. “I’m a revolutionary.”

“A revolutionary who missed the snow,” Crowley gestured out the window. Aziraphale, realizing he hadn’t actually looked out the window since he’d gotten up, gazed out on the winter wonderland the South Downs had apparently become while he slept. 

“Oh, darling, it’s lovely,” Aziraphale smiled. “However, you should probably check on your plants.”

“You know me too well.” Crowley turned in Aziraphale’s arms so they were chest-to-chest. “They should be fine, greenhouse’s got a roof, but I do want to make sure. It may not be their fault if the greenhouse isn’t completely airtight-- but it  _ will _ be their fault if they let it affect them in  _ any _ way.”

Aziraphale laughed, kissing Crowley’s nose before pulling away. “Try not to be too cruel to them, love. Go on ahead, I’ll be down soon.”

Aziraphale watched Crowley saunter away, waiting until he heard the demon’s footsteps begin to descend the stairs before sitting on the edge of their bed and turning to his bedside drawer. He opened it, pulling out a small blue velvet box. He couldn’t say why, but he knew: today was the day. 

The ring was beautiful-- a thin silver band which twisted around to encircle a sparkling stone the same color as Crowley’s eyes. Oh, how Aziraphale loved Crowley’s eyes. For nearly 6000 years he had hardly seen them, and while he was well aware that Crowley kept them hidden for the sake of the humans, he also knew that Crowley was self-conscious about them. But Aziraphale thought they were absolutely gorgeous, and now that he had the freedom to do so, he told him as much every chance he got. As such, when he saw this ring-- with the stone that matched Crowley’s eyes so perfectly-- he knew it was the one. It would, Aziraphale hoped, serve as a reminder to Crowley that Aziraphale loved every part of him, even (and especially) the parts that Crowley himself despised. 

He knew it was a bit silly; marriage was a human thing, after all. But so was collecting books, or owning a car, or having sex. So was falling in love. And as Aziraphale stared down at the ring resting in the box, he knew it wasn’t really about the ceremony and the piece of paper. They didn’t even need to go through all of that, if Crowley didn’t want to. What mattered was the commitment, was Aziraphale showing Crowley that he was devoted to him, forever. Crowley was always the one to take steps to further their relationship, from the arrangement, to their friendship, to being the first one to confess his love; this time Aziraphale wanted to be the one to take the step. There were reasons he had held back in the past, and Crowley had been  _ so _ patient, and didn’t for a second fault him for his hesitation. Crowley understood him-- really, truly understood him-- better than anyone, and for that and so many other reasons, Aziraphale loved him, and he wanted to show him that he was on their side, for good. 

He didn’t have a fully fleshed-out plan, so to speak. After all, it was only when he had woken up and seen how beautiful Crowley looked in the morning light that he had finally decided he simply couldn’t wait any longer. He glanced out the window again, wondering if the snow had been light enough that it would melt by the end of the day. If so, perhaps he could suggest that he and Crowley go for a drive… maybe they could go to those cliffs that overlooked the sea. 

They had moved into the cottage in late June, and had visited the cliffs on their first day, finding them miraculously deserted for the time of year. Crowley had looked at Aziraphale with a devilish grin, and immediately jumped off the edge. Aziraphale had panicked momentarily, only for Crowley to swoop up to eye level with him, having apparently opened his wings mid-air, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Aziraphale had started yelling at him, saying  _ how dare you scare me like that _ and  _ you know we can’t afford to get discorporated _ and  _ what if you had gotten hurt _ , and Crowley, still as smug as ever, had flown away from him and out over the water. The message had been clear:  _ Join me, angel. If you dare. _ Aziraphale had rolled his eyes, but ultimately stretched out his wings and flew out to join him. 

They spent the day there, flying over the water hand in hand, and eventually swimming in it as well. Aziraphale had hesitated at first, not wanting to get his clothes wet, but Crowley pointed out, with an accompanying snap of his fingers, that clothes were technically optional. The wind had been lovely through his wings, the water cool on his skin, and Crowley absolutely beautiful in the light of the afternoon, red hair gleaming and pale skin freckling easily in the sun. It had been a wonderful day, and a perfect beginning to their life in the South Downs. 

It was too cold to go swimming, but they could look at the stars, and Aziraphale could ask Crowley to tell him their names (again). Crowley, cold-blooded serpent that he was, would certainly get chilly, but that would just give Aziraphale an excuse to hold him close. And then, he supposed, when the time felt right, he would take Crowley’s hand, get down on one knee, and pop the question. It wasn’t  _ exactly _ a plan, but it would have to do. He reasoned that it ought not to matter what they did, as long as he said what he wanted to say-- as long as Crowley understood, truly understood, that Aziraphale wanted forever with him. 

He was so wrapped up in thought that he didn’t hear Crowley coming back up the stairs.

Crowley popped his head into the bedroom. “Angel, I’m gonna put the kettle on, what kind of tea do you--”

The words snapped Aziraphale out of his thoughts, and panic shot through him as he looked up to see Crowley, his jaw hanging open, looking back and forth from Aziraphale’s face to the open ring box in his hands. The game was up. Aziraphale knew this, and yet he still fumbled to close the ring box, all but flung it back into the drawer, and shoved the drawer shut with entirely too much force. 

“Yes, dear?” he said, faking nonchalance to the best of his ability and failing spectacularly. 

“Angel, what…” Crowley’s voice was hoarse, and he appeared frozen in the doorway. 

“Oh, to hell with it,” Aziraphale muttered. His plan had been half-baked at best, and at this point he couldn’t very well lie his way out of the situation. And frankly, he didn’t want to. What he wanted to do was propose to Crowley, and whether he did it now or later tonight was ultimately of no consequence. “Darling, come here.”

He stood, crossing the room to Crowley, taking him by the hand, and leading him to the bed. “Sit down, my dear.”

Crowley sat down on the edge of the bed, looking incredibly tense. “Aziraphale, is this--”

“Shhh, darling. It’s alright.”

Aziraphale reopened the drawer, pulling out the ring box and willing his hands not to shake. He dropped to one knee, and took Crowley’s hand in his again. 

“Crowley,” he began, already feeling the tremor in his voice. He wasn’t going to make it through this without crying, a fact that would have been embarrassing if he hadn’t seen time after time that Crowley was just as much of a sap as he was when it came to things like this. 6000 years of repression had had its effect on both of them. “This past year has been the happiest of my life so far, and it’s all thanks to you. You’re everything to me, and-- and I love you… erm, obviously. I-- goodness, I really should have prepared better for this…”

That got a chuckle out of Crowley. “You’re kidding, right, angel? Or have you forgotten what happened the first time I told you I was in love with you?”

Aziraphale laughed at the memory. “Quite. We’re not exactly known for our planning, are we? Now, where was I?”

“I believe you were declaring your eternal love for me, if I’m not mistaken.” Crowley grinned at him, some of the tension leaving his body. 

“Right,” Aziraphale smiled back at him. “I do love you, my darling. And, well… I suppose… there was a long time-- most of my life, to be honest, where I thought that we could never have this. I knew what I felt for you, and I suspected you felt the same, but I thought this was simply too far out of reach. So, I dealt with it by pushing it down, pushing it away. Pretending I felt nothing for you, pretending I didn’t see the way you would look at me. Even after we were free, those habits were hard to kick. You’ve always been the brave one, dear-- even your outburst at the holiday party was braver than I could have managed--”

Crowley was shaking his head. “Angel, angel, angel, you’re  _ so _ brave-- don’t look at me like that, you  _ are _ . I won’t stand for you slandering the love of my life like that.”

“Very well then, my dear,” Aziraphale conceded, blushing slightly. “But the fact remains, when it comes to our relationship, you always took the first step. You proposed the arrangement, you confessed your love for me, hell, when I was guarding the Eastern Gate you slithered up that wall to talk to me! I could’ve smote you on the spot, and you did it anyway.”

“Believe me, angel, I was smitten,” Crowley said under his breath. 

“The point is,” Aziraphale pressed on. He was on a roll now, now that he knew what he wanted to say. “The point is, time and time again you threw caution to the wind, hoping that I’d stick with you through it. This time, it’s my turn. I love you, more than I ever thought I could love someone. I want everything with you, I want to give you the damn world. And I know that marriage is a human thing, but that’s not a bad thing to be. Falling in love is a human thing, too, and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  _ You’re _ the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And-- and anyway, it’s not about the piece of paper, we don’t even need to get one if you don’t want to, it’s just-- I wanted to do something. For you. To-- to show you that I’m committed to this-- to us-- to, well, to you, Crowley. Forever. And, well, as silly as it sounds, I want to be able to call you my husband.”

He pulled out the ring box, opening it so that Crowley could see the ring-- on purpose, this time. 

“Anthony J. Crowley, will you marry me?” The tears that he had anticipated from the start had finally made an appearance, and he was grateful that he had managed to get all the words out before he got too choked up to continue. 

“Angel,” Crowley’s voice was rough-- he was crying now, too. “ _ My angel _ . Fuck-- I love you, I love you so much…”

And then he was pulling Aziraphale up and into his lap, and he was kissing him and kissing him and kissing him. Aziraphale struggled to hold onto the ring box at the same time as he wrapped his arms around Crowley, kissing him back fiercely. 

“So is that a yes?” Aziraphale asked as they separated.

“What? Oh, fuck, right-- yes, yes of course,” Crowley said through a shaky laugh. “Yes, I will marry you, I  _ want _ to marry you, I want to be your husband, I want you to be mine… just,  _ yes _ .”

“Oh, good.” Aziraphale giggled, kissing Crowley again. Finally, he set the ring box on his bedside table and slipped the ring onto Crowley’s finger. Unable to help himself, he pressed a kiss to Crowley’s knuckles. When he lifted his head, he noticed the look in Crowley’s eyes. It was the same look he had seen right before Crowley flung himself off of those cliffs, several months ago. The same devilish grin spread across Crowley’s face, and all at once he pulled Aziraphale on top of him, so that they were both lying on the bed. 

“Now,  _ I _ have a proposal for  _ you _ , my angel,” Crowley purred in Aziraphale’s ear, making him shiver. “What do you say you and I spend the first day of our engagement without leaving this bed?”

“An intriguing offer,” Aziraphale replied coyly. “And whatever shall we do with all that time, my dear fiance?”

“Oh, you know,” Crowley smirked. “A little of this…” he nipped at Aziraphale’s neck, “a little of that,” he squeezed Aziraphale’s ass, “I suppose we’ll see where the day takes us.”

“Hmm,” Aziraphale hummed in faux consideration. He leaned down and gave Crowley a brief kiss, a promise of many more to come. “Temptation accomplished.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in conclusion: they are soft and so am i
> 
> but honestly-- this is a story i never really thought i'd ever write. this time last year i never would've thought that i'd even be writing fanfic, much less something with multiple chapters (even though it's only three lmao). i definitely never would've guessed i'd be writing smut... not really sure what my point is here except if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading 💕💕💕
> 
> now i'm going to get consumed by online classwork for the remainder of april... i no longer have the excuse of a proper WIP to distract me :( (i'll definitely be back though lmao-- i have too many ideas that demand to be written)
> 
> tumblr @ [panicvertig-o](https://panicvertig-o.tumblr.com/) / [ineffableflashbastard](https://ineffableflashbastard.tumblr.com/) (good omens side blog)
> 
> [check out my other good omens fics!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elletopaz/works?fandom_id=27251507)
> 
> thank you (again) for reading! :D


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